


The appetites of wolves

by valdomarx (cptxrogers)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Sharing, Voyeurism, cockslut jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24136051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptxrogers/pseuds/valdomarx
Summary: Wolves are pack animals, and that means they share.Jaskier gets shared around Kaer Morhen. Geralt isn't jealous in the least.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 31
Kudos: 1050





	The appetites of wolves

Wolves are pack animals, and that means they share. The same is true of Wolf School witchers, and Geralt has shared food, clothes, coin, and space with Eskel and Lambert for almost as long as he can remember.

So it should not have come as a surprise that the first time he brings Jaskier to Kaer Morhen, he’s expected to share him as well.

Lambert had started it - _of course_ Lambert had started it - flirting with Jaskier incessantly and pulling him into his lap while they sat in the cold keep of an evening. Jaskier had blushed and giggled, and Geralt couldn’t rightly say why that made something sharp and irritable thrum under his skin.

It progressed to hands all over Jaskier at the breakfast table, him sitting on Lambert’s knee with Lambert feeding pieces of dried fruit to him with one hand while rubbing his dick through his trousers with the other. And if that infuriated Geralt is was only because he was trying to enjoy his breakfast and he didn’t need to see Jaskier sucking on Lambert’s fingers and squirming like a harlot while he ate.

One day Jaskier would be sitting on the floor with his head in Eskel’s lap, nosing at his cock while Eskel ran a hand through his hair, and the next he’d be grinding against Lambert in the armoury when they were supposed to be cleaning the swords. Coen had come by for a visit before the snow closed the pass to the keep completely, and even he had found time for Jaskier to suck his cock in the kitchen while trading supplies.

Privacy doesn’t mean much among a group so close, so it’s not as if anyone thinks twice before manhandling Jaskier in front of Geralt. And that’s fine. Of course it’s fine. Jaskier is a grown man, and if he wants to fuck his way around the keep then that’s his business. Geralt keeps his hands to himself and watches with nothing more than idle curiosity as Eskel and Lambert enjoy Jaskier’s many famous talents.

Tonight had started as a quiet evening until Lambert had produced a bottle of that gods-awful spirit from his still. Now Lambert has Jaskier bent over a table, trousers around his ankles and shirt rucked up to his shoulder blades, and he’s fucking into him in short, hard thrusts which have Jaskier mewling.

“You like that, sweetheart?” Lambert asks, one hand holding Jaskier down between his shoulders. “You like getting stuffed with my cock?”

Jaskier barely manages to whine out an affirmative.

Geralt sits opposite, watching the two of them, full of discomfort and yet unable to look away.

“Good of you to share, Geralt,” Lambert drawls, smug even while balls deep in another man. “What a blessing to have a companion who takes it so damn well.“ Jaskier flushes deeper at the compliment.

“We’re not…” Geralt grinds his teeth, remembering a cold mountain top and his biting temper. “We don’t do that.”

Jaskier looks at him, and there’s something distant in his eyes for a moment, until Lambert snaps his hips again and gets him gasping.

Lambert smirks, hips still moving. “What, trying to tell me you’ve never thought about it?”

Geralt glowers. Of _course_ he’s thought about it. As if anyone would be able to spend more than two minutes in Jaskier’s company and _not_ think about fucking him. Not when he has those lips, plump and pink and impossible not to picture wrapped around your cock, and those hands which never stop moving and make you want to hold them down, and the way he swings his hips when he walks like he’s inviting you to focus on his ass.

He’s never followed through on it, though. He’s not blind - he knows Jaskier flirts with him - but he’d thought it mere banter, nothing to be acted on. He’d assumed that the reality of being touched by a filthy witcher would send Jaskier running. But seeing the way he’s whining and writhing on Lambert’s cock, it seems he was wrong about that.

“Too bad,” Lambert says, reading him without trying in that annoying way he can. “You’re missing out on one hell of a lay.” He squeezes Jaskier’s ass, hard enough that Geralt can see his fingers denting soft flesh, and Jaskier’s hands scrabble at the rough wooden table.

Jaskier is a mess, strands of sweaty hair flopping in his eyes and jaw slack, ass in the air like he’s presenting himself for Lambert, and Geralt sorely regrets that he doesn’t get to see that view for himself.

He’s achingly hard, and no one would care a whit if he got himself off while watching them, but that would feel like an admission of some kind. So he ignores the way his dick is pressing up against the leather of his trousers and fists his hands at his sides, fighting a battle that he’s beginning to suspect might be only with himself.

Of course Lambert notices. “Be a good boy and look at Geralt for me,” Lambert says smugly to Jaskier, leaning over to get his fingers under his chin and tilt it up. “Let him see how well you’re taking it.”

Jaskier obeys, locking eyes with Geralt, and it feels like a punch to the gut. Lambert snorts and slams into him harder, making the heavy table rock with the force. Jaskier lets out a series of _oh uh oh ohhh_ noises which Geralt has never heard from him before, and the arm of Geralt’s chair creaks as he tightens his fist around it.

“Such a good boy,” Lambert purrs. “You like having Geralt watch, don’t you? Look at him. Look at how hard he is. He’s ready to come in his pants just watching you.”

Geralt’s scowl deepens, but it’s hard to take offence when Jaskier is looking at him like he might have found heaven itself. The fact he’s found it while getting his ass utterly wrecked by Lambert only puts a slight dampener on the effect.

“Alright, darling, you’ve been so good. I’m going to come all over you now. You want that? Want to be covered in my seed, so you’ll smell like me, so you’ll know who took you for days?” Lambert raises an eyebrow at Geralt as he speaks, and something hot and furious at the idea of Jaskier being marked by someone _else_ flashes through him.

Jaskier seems into though. “ _Yes_ ,” he whines. “ _Please._ ”

“You beg so pretty,” Lambert says, then he’s pulling out and taking his cock in his hand, jerking himself with a last few hard strokes and then coming with a groan, all over Jaskier’s back and ass and thighs. Geralt’s dick twitches in his trousers as Lambert thumbs through the cum splattered over his back, rubbing it into the skin.

“Can I -” Jaskier pants, propping himself up on one elbow and palming at his own cock. “Fuck, Lambert, can I come now -”

“Ah ah ahh,” Lambert says, smacking his hand away. “Not just yet, sweet thing. You’ve got one more round to go. One more witcher wants a fuck.”

Geralt’s heart trips up, stumbling at the thought that Lambert might invite him over, that Jaskier might let him, that he could sink himself into deep into Jaskier like he can finally admit he’s dying to do. He can imagine how it’ll feel, sliding his cock into Jaskier when he’s already loose and open, ready to take him, the noises Jaskier will make when he fucks him, the way he’ll moan his name. His cock is leaking in his trousers just thinking about it.

Lambert catches his eye and winks. “Hey, Eskel!” he yells down the corridor. “Get in here! It’s your turn on the bard.”

The absolute _bastard_.


End file.
